


Breaking Apart

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, Borussia Dortmund, FC Bayern München, German National Team, Instagram, International Break, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:18:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is in Angst as he realises him and Mario are slowly growing apart</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Apart

31 May

“hey, happy birthday bro! have a great one. looking forward to seeing you soon! p.s. my merch is cooler than yours, but for today I’ll let that slide - Lukas Podolski”

It was 11.45pm, and Marco was exhausted after going out with the teammates, so he called in early. After all, Ronaldo got blasted after celebrating his birthday after the loss to Athletico, and he wasn’t feeling up to it after they lost their last ever game with the one and only Kloppo. But today was his birthday, and Auba and Shinji appeared at his locker first thing after the match and threw him a surprise party with the rest of the team. Even Sebastian stayed, joking that it was his last ever party in a dortmund shirt. Messages had been pouring all day from ex-teammates at Gladbach to the ever so eager German National Team, and even his coaches dropped him a note. He kind of stopped caring about birthdays a while ago, because he didn’t like to be reminded of his age and the fact that the last chance he’d get at a world cup would be in 2018 when he would be almost 30! But today there was a nagging feeling that something was missing, something someone had forgotten…

As if the DfB Pokal Cup loss wasn’t bad enough, someone hadn’t wished him yet. He’d got an instagram mention from Muller, who was as Bavarian as Bavarian could be. Even Andre wished him after the match, giving him a consolatory hug and he promised that he’d pass him his present later. But there was someone who didn’t even try to send a text, someone who was obviously having fun celebrating the fact that he’d won the league in red and white, not black and yellow, someone who he hadn’t talked to in months…

Marco’s phone buzzed and he scrambled to check the notification. Was it him? No, it was just Julian Draxler sending him a photo of them at the last international break. That was nice, but not exactly what he wanted. I know we haven’t really spoken to each other, but isn’t it common courtesy to wish your best friend a happy birthday? Or was he really Marco’s best friend? It seemed like he’d moved on from Marco to bigger, better things over in Munich. Plus, Auba and Shinji were Marco’s best friends, right? 

He decided he was going to play some Fifa to clear his mind. If nothing had happened by 1am, he was just going to sleep; it’d been an exhausting day. Maybe he’s busy. Busy running around with the Meisterschale. He played for a while before passing out on the sofa, controller still in his hands.

—

He woke up the next morning feeling groggy and stiff. The first thing that came to his mind was Has he said anything? Marco grabbed his phone which had been strewn across the table in front of him. There was a new instagram notification. Maybe he put up a dedication post? He quickly unlocked his phone, slightly dismayed to find out that it was only a fan dedication. He ignored it and crawled into the sofa. Were they now officially broken up?

Things had been getting weird for them ever since the world cup ended. Mario had so much media attention on him for scoring that goal, and while Marco was delighted that he had dedicated the goal to him, he felt a tinge of jealousy when media outlets hailed Mario as the new German superstar and wonder boy. This was really selfish of Marco, or so he’d thought, to think this way as Mario was the reason the germans won the world cup! But Mario became a little more full of himself after all the media praise, and after all the good things he was doing at Bayern. They talked less and less, but when Andre finally moved back to Germany Marco thought the three of them would be the great trio once again. Instead, Mario spent all his free time with his new friends and Andre, because Marco got injured often or Kloppo held them back for extra training to get them back on their feet after the dismal first half of the season. Marco ended up spending time with Auba planning celebrations or Shinji thinking of ideas for the Boss’s farewell party. Every time he tried to talk to Mario, they couldn’t connect on anything without Mario having to leave the conversation for ‘lunch’ with someone. Mario partied even harder after this and met a lot of new people. And now, they hadn’t talked properly since March, not even during der Klassiker in the semi-final of the cup. Perhaps that was why Mario didn’t score his penalty, but whatever. That was not his problem.

But surely Mario remembered the days when they’d just talk about Justin Bieber or play Fifa back in his apartment in Dortmund, or the days they would go out to buy matching caps, scarves and towels at the Dortmund megastore. Days when life was much simpler at Dortmund, when reporters weren’t hounding you for your transfer decisions or the club was fighting against relegation. The second Mario had left, everything changed, but he didn’t know it was going to change so drastically. 

That’s it. Marco thought, I’m not going to wish him a happy birthday either. He had Mario’s birthdate memorised by heart, after all it was only 3 days and 3 years after his. They’d used to talk about how they were born to be together, with their spiky blond hair and their taste in music and taste in… Andre. 

Get that our of your head, Marco told himself. Why don’t you take a walk around town today to clear your thoughts. Just stop thinking about him.

He wondered if Mario ever felt this empty without him.

3 June

He had to stop scrolling through social media. Marco bit his lip as he saw Robert dedicate a post to Mario. He didn’t like how Mario was getting so much more ‘attention’ than him. Although he did feel a little guilty for not saying anything, he was adamant that Mario didn’t care. I mean he was the one who hadn’t been talking to him in weeks. But he really need someone to talk to right now, and Auba and Shinji had returned to their home countries already for holiday. It was kind of lonely in Dortmund now that Mario had moved out too— they’d be the ones who would spend time together post-season. Marco flung himself on the bed, exhausted by all of this nonsense. Maybe he could call Mats, the other german dortmund player who wasn’t years younger than him. But then again Mats was probably spending time with his girlfriend. He hadn’t even planned a holiday for himself, he just wanted to stay in Dortmund and relax a little, but perhaps it’d be best if he got away to take his time off this...

Suddenly he remembered the international break. He’d have to see Mario then. Suddenly he missed everyone again, and he wanted all the boys back in Germany. 

Just as he though of that, his phone rang. He jumped to it, only to find out it was his agent. Grumbling, he picked up the phone. 

“Marco, I just wanted to let you know Arsenal has increased their offer. But it still doesn’t match Real Madrid’s. And just a reminder that Mesut Ozil and Per Mertersacker play for Arsenal and Toni Kroos for Real—“

“Yes I know, thank you very much.” Marco grumbled as he hung up the phone. His new agent had been really annoying, because he knew he didn’t want to leave Dortmund, the city where he’d been raised. He was loyal to his club. He’d give anything for this club. That’s why he had signed a new contract. Unlike a certain traitor…

4 June

It pained him to see Mario retweeting photo collages his fans had made for him. It pained him even more to see Andre post a picture on his private account of Mario’s birthday party which he hadn’t been invited to. How could he do this? Marco should have seen this coming. Mario loved parties and would always find a night club to visit on his birthday. Then again, it’s not like he had invited him to his party, even though it wasn’t really a party. At least Mario didn’t post anything on his own account…

10 June

Mario really was the worst. 

He’d avoided him in the hotel, during meal times and during training. Marco had gone out with Basti to do some shopping, and when he came back he saw Mario, Andre and Christoph Kramer dressed up in American Football gear. What the actual hell. Marco was the one who introduced the NFL to him. Marco was the one who taught him the rules of this weird version of rugby and Marco was the one who had laughed with him at their stupid rules and giant shoulder pads. 

Now here he was, ready to play some American Football with Andre and his replacement, Kramer, who was 4 years younger than him. 

Marco couldn’t take it anymore. He caught up with Andre and grabbed him from behind.

“Andre, what the hell are you doing? Did Jogi even authorise this? Why is Kramer with you?”

“Oh, Marco! Uh we’re going to play uh… Rugby.” Andre stammered.

“It’s gonna be lots of fun!” Kramer grinned

“What?!” Marco shouted, exasperated.

“Jogi said it was okay. We just had to be careful not to injure ourselves. Look, there’s an American football coach here too. He’lll teach us about it.”

“Why didm’t you invite me” Marco choked.

“Um, uh, um you seemed to be having fun with Basti, so we decided to leave you guys alone…” Andre whispered

“Andre. Christoph. Let’s go. Let’s not waste the coach’s time.” Mario grabbed Andre and Kramer and headed off. “oh hi Marco.”

Marco wanted to die. His heart was breaking in front of him. His palms were sweating and his fists clenched. His mouth was numb and words couldn’t seem to find their way out. His eyes were tearing up but he turned away and left.

“Have fun without me then.” he mumbled to himself.

He turned to Basti, who had been standing there the whole time.

“How do you and Poldi handle this?” he asked

Basti looked forlornly at Marco.

“I’ve always looked at you and Mario and saw a reflection of myself and Poldi. I don’t really have any advice to give, just talk to him.” Basti gave Marco a reassuring hug.

Marco watched as Basti left. He couldn’t help but feel envious of the cheerful grin on his face as he started talking to the concierge.

He went up to his room on his own.

—

Mario finished his American football and walked out, behind Andre and Christoph. Marco was nervously fidgeting around in the lift as it reached the ground floor. Marco had a mental list of things he had to say. Mario had to take a shower.

Marco caught them walking towards him.

“Andre, Christoph, could you give us some time alone?” Marco had prepared his aggressive voice.

Andre immediately knew what was going on. He grabbed Christoph’s wrist and headed up. 

“Let me guess, we need to talk?” Mario raised his eyebrows.

“Can you stop acting like this? Who are you anymore? Why do you keep avoiding me?” Marco grabbed Mario’s shoulders.

“People change.” Mario said, not looking up at him.

“Marco, don’t try to act like you don’t know what’s going on.” Mario said, maintaing his calm voice.

“I honestly don’t, Mario!” Marco was almost yelling.

“I think you do.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Marco looked down at Mario’s shoelaces, then his own. He noticed that his own were more tangled and wrought, like they always were. It kind of represented their feelings right now— like how Mario’s impeccable shoelaces matched his indifferent personality.

“I loved you,” Marco managed to muster.

“And I used to to,” Mario smiled sheepishly.

“So are we over?”

“We’ve been over for months, woody. You could tell. It’s nothing personal. I think we just grew apart.” Mario said matter-of-factly, but behind his poker face he winced a little and Marco could see the pain he was trying to hide.

“So there’s no more late-night partying? No more karaoke sessions? No more sitting in my room and playing fifa? No more us?”

“I guess so.”

Marco realised he knew this was coming. It really was inevitable given the last couple of months they’d had. But he didn’t realise how unprepared he was for this moment. Everything he had prepared in the lift lobby vanished from his mind, and the shock of the moment left him lost for words. In that second all his energy could only muster a single, strained breath.

“Okay.”

Mario looked at Marco. He didn’t realise how much this had affected him. He’d only been distant and cold to Marco to try and get away from him. He couldn’t risk falling in love with him again. When he looked back into his eyes, he remembered why he had to reserve himself. He remembered why he couldn’t have Marco.

“Okay.”

"I’ll see you at training?”

“I’ll see you too.”

The painful nonchalance in his voice hit Marco like a bullet train. 

He turned and walked away, back into the lift.

Insert the card, push the button for the eleventh floor. Wait for the doors to close. Listen to elevator music. Hear the whoosh sound as the elevator raced up the floors. Exit at the ding of the bell.

That’s what Marco would have done on a normal day.

Today he sat in the lift and cried and cried.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is based off Mario and Marco's instagram activity (i'm not a stalker) and their birthdays. some of the facts aren't accurate (like how Marco didn't get called for international duty and the american football was for an ad) so it's kind of an AU. 
> 
> it's also my interpretation of the events it doesn't mean Mario and Marco aren't friends in real life! i'm sure they just talked privately or something :) i just noticed how Marco just posted something for Aubameyang but not Mario etc :( 
> 
> sorry if this makes you too sad :(


End file.
